Tart
by Sophia Musgraves
Summary: "By the time I reached the Head's dormitories, I was hungry, limping, and juggling numerous amounts of equipment while trying not to hurt my hand anymore than it could have possibly have been hurt after stupidly trying to break my fall with it in front of those bloody Hufflepuffs. My hand felt beyond repair. And no, I'm not being dramatic. At all." James Potter/Lily Evans


**A/N: Trying to cure my writers block for 'Not Alone' :( Hopefully you enjoy this in the meantime!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or a hairy porter ;)**

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I pushed back from the table furiously, ignoring the winces and complaints from my classmates as the bench scraped violently across the stone floor as I made my escape.

Potter had gone too far this time. Several miles too far.

Snatching up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder I stormed out of the Great Hall furiously, teeth clenched and blood boiling, leaving behind the remnants of my lunch as Potter had the audacity to call out after me. Something pathetic, no doubt.

I had never, in the seven years I had been at Hogwarts, been this mad at Potter. I was literally shaking from anger, my vision hazy and tinged with red as I stalked through the castle blindly, the sound of my shoes slapping fiercely against the cold flagstones spurring me onwards to my undecided destination.

How dare he? Potter knew very well how I felt about _that_ matter, and the fact that he had used my weakness against me was unacceptable. How would he like it if _I _used _his_ feelings for something he felt strongly about and manipulated them just to rile him up? He wouldn't like it all. No sir, he wouldn't like it one bit.

Nothing he had done before compared to this.

_Nothing_.

"Argh!" I cried out into the silent corridor, this being the only sound I could coherently make, and most annoyingly, it didn't even come close to expressing the immense anger I felt towards a certain James Potter at this moment.

And I had reached the end of a dead-end corridor without noticing.

Of bloody course.

"What next?" I yelled at the blank stone wall. "What are you going to do next, huh? Kill me? You may as well, there's no point in being around after this catastrophe!"

The wall stayed blank and unmoving.

Not a very satisfactory reaction.

When I got mad, I wanted the world to know, and this wall was not doing my wishes justice. Frustrated beyond belief, I let out another angry expletive and launched myself at the wall, battering it with my fists. A minute of this and it still wasn't satisfying. I should have stopped after the first three seconds, like my brain had told me. Where was rational Lily when I needed her? I wanted something soft, something _human_ to take my anger out on. Preferably something the approximate size and shape of something handily named James Potter.

I gave the wall one last punch for good luck, which rapidly turned to bad luck as I heard a sickening crunch of bones a split second before pain shot through my hand, turning it into a useless, limp mass of sore-ness.

"Bloody, bleeding hell!" I cried, cradling the lump of hand in my other, _working_ hand and turning away from the evil wall, prepared to storm back down the corridor.

"Oh in the name of Merlin's ratty boxers…." Two frightened first years were frozen just meters away from me, watching my movements with wide, fearful eyes. Great, just brilliant. Just what I needed, more people thinking that the Head Girls was a nutter.

I swept past the pair with my head held high, refusing to look at them as I passed. God damnit, what next? I thought desperately as I started towards the Head's Dormitory in a right royal huff. Could this day possibly get any worse?

Of course it could!

On my way to the dorm, I firstly had to pass the portrait of that awful knight, Sir Cadogan, who insisted on 'protecting' me on my journey. Although how a painting of a knight on an exceptionally fat pony would help me if I encountered danger was beyond me.

Then, I just _had_ to trip up on something lurking invisibly on the floor that after further inspection, decided not to exist. Oh, and I just _happened_ to be passing a group of fifth year Hufflepuffs when it happened. Whoever was under the impression that Hufflepuffs were nice was sadly misinformed. Mocking and jeering at an extremely dignified Head Girl does not count as nice, in my book. Sir Cadogan did not protect me from them. Useless bugger.

Thirdly, and thankfully also finally (although I was not thankful that it happened), my bag 'mysteriously' split as I passed that vile Slytherin; Mulciber. Who shouldn't even be out as lunch had finished a while ago and I knew only seventh year Gryffindors had a free period now. I would have gladly given him a months worth of detentions if he hadn't whipped around the corner faster than a greyhound. Or a cheetah. Or a race horse. Or a- you get the idea. Anyway, I was left behind. At least no-one except bloody Cadogan was around to witness the humiliating scramble for odd quills and parchment that had scattered for miles (well it felt like miles) around the accident zone. And gathering said belongings was not any easier with one useless, probably broken hand. It was actually harder, believe it or not.

By the time I reached the Head's dormitories, I was hungry, limping, and juggling numerous amounts of equipment while trying not to hurt my hand anymore than it could have possibly have been hurt after stupidly trying to break my fall with it in front of those bloody Hufflepuffs. My hand felt beyond repair. And no, I'm not being dramatic. At all.

With great difficulty, I climbed through the 'window' that doubled as the entrance to the dorm, annoyance still coursing through my veins like a river roaring down a mountain in the way that it swept away everything else in it's path. Although saying that, I wasn't quite annoyed enough to shove away the hands that immediately reached to take my school gear as I wobbled my way inside. Bloody helpful Potter. I was, of course, too annoyed to thank him though. It just wouldn't be proper after what he had done. Not to mention that it gave me a large dose of petty satisfaction.

That satisfaction went down the drain almost immediately as I was condemned to thank him after he had rolled his eyes at the sight of my mangled hand before waving his wand over it with a tired sigh, as if he had seen this occur often (three times before doesn't count as often, does it?), fixing it immediately.

So, I ground out a short "Thanks," at the ground, as it was my nature to be polite and pleasant at all times.

My upbringing didn't mean I couldn't jerk my chin out of Potter's lovely- no, -_horrible_, warm, large hands as he tried to get me too look up at him. Humph. Not likely, the guy was bloody six foot tall! I didn't want to strain my neck and get a headache.

"C'mon, Lils," he whined rather pathetically, I must say. What a chump. I swatted his ridiculously nice hands away with my newly healed one and made to sweep into my room majestically.

Making my way across the plush red carpet to the desired destination was harder than expected, as Potter thought it would be a good idea to block my progress forward with his strong frame and pleading words:

-"Please, Lily. Just talk to me!" (Talk to my back. As I escape to my room.)

-"Lily! Come on, just look at me!" (Oooh, look at me, neh neh neeeh.)

-"Oh are you serious? Don't be so immature! Talk to me woman!" (Don't call me woman you egg.)

-"Lils, really. Look into my eyes." (No. They were too high up- headache wasn't worth it.)

-"Are you really planning on ignoring me forever?" (I was)

-"Please, Lily. Don't do this." (Move, you brick.)

And finally; "Bloody hell Evans! I didn't realise you felt so strongly about this! I'm sorry, I swear."

At that last attempt, something inside of me snapped. I literally felt it. It definitely wasn't my tummy rumbling. This was _not_ hunger. It started with a bubbling, boiling feeling in the pit of my stomach, the muscles clenching violently, then the tightening of my jaw quickly followed. My hands twitched, clenching into fists and my eyes narrowed menacingly as all hell broke loose.

"YOU DIDN'T KNOW HOW I FELT? ABOUT _THIS_? That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard, and that includes every Divination lesson I've ever attended! For God's sake, you've watched me for _seven bloody years; _you know what I'm like! Don't act _dumb_, Potter, or I swear, I will hex you so hard you won't be able to have children. _Ever_. You _pompous,_-" here I started prodding him with every adjective- "_pretentious, useless, cowardly, idiotic, ARSE_! Like hell you didn't know how I felt."

Disappointingly, Potter hadn't backed off at my fearsome rant, if anything, he had come closer. We were a foot apart, and my chest was heaving as I breathed in and out angrily. I could feel my cheeks growing redder and redder with rage and my nostrils flaring dangerously.

Potter smirked.

"Argh! You- you- argh!" I raised my fists again, ready to do some serious damage to his pretty, chiselled face, perhaps even break his stupidly adorable glasses, but no sooner than I had, he snared them between his bigger hands and yanked my flush against his body. I stamped on his foot. He didn't seem to notice and before I could register what was happening, James Potter's mouth had descended upon mine in a hot, passionate kiss that had me trembling at the knees and gasping into him, deepening the kiss eagerly.

Then I realised what was happening. I wrenched my mouth off his and glared at him, outwardly still furious, even though my insides had turned to mush and my heart was pounding against my ribcage. He just grinned and dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose, his insufferable grin widening as I wrinkled it distastefully. I struggled to escape his hulk-like grip and groaned as he continued to beam down at me.

"I ought to dump you, Potter," I said in my most menacing voice.

"As if," he smirked, lowering his head again to try and kiss me. No matter how pleasantly my stomach had clenched, I wasn't letting that happen until I got a proper apology from my useless boyfriend.

Dodging his lips, I tipped my head back to look him in the eye, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"Sorry, Lils," he said, before smiling brightly and making to kiss me again.

"For…?" I prompted.

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry for taking the last treacle tart at lunch. I promise I'll never do it again."

"Thank you." I said, finally allowing his lips to meet mine again.

It wasn't so bad, actually, seeing as James still tasted pleasantly of my favourite dessert.

Which he had stolen from me.

The arse.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a review by :)**

**-Sophia**


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